


It's Curtains for Us

by Ellen Smithee (ellensmithee)



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellensmithee/pseuds/Ellen%20Smithee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon and Alaric buy curtains. Together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Curtains for Us

Alaric scowled and scuffed his shoe against the linoleum floor of the department store.

"This is stupid." He pulled a set of prepackaged drapes out of the bargain bin. "These are fine. Let's go."

Damon's eyes widened in abject horror. The drapes were straight out of the '70s, all beige and brown and kelly green and purply, with a pattern consisting of ivy interspersed with deer and beer steins. Those _things_ were not entering their apartment if he had anything to say about it. They were probably the only curtains he'd ever seen that would be _improved_ by bloodstains.

" _No_." Reaching over, Damon grabbed the packaging, wrestling over it with Alaric for a moment before the latter let go of it with a put-upon sigh.

" _I_ will choose," Damon said. "After all, I have to live with it, too. Now stay here and don't move. And don't touch anything. And don't watch. I don't want your bad taste jinxing me."

"Fine." Alaric rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He slouched over to a pile of rugs and threw himself onto it with another passive-aggressive sigh. Damon clenched his teeth as he turned towards the floor-to-ceiling curtain rack. The special 'Alaric' headache that was starting to form behind his right temple was already threatening to be far worse than all of his past Bonnie-induced aneurysms put together.

He looked through the curtains quickly, assessing the quality of the materials and tastefulness of the patterns as he mentally catalogued which would go best in which room.

"I don't see why Caroline can't do this," Alaric groused behind him. "She loves to play Martha Stewart."

"No way. Not after the chintz incident." Damon's whole body shuddered at a sudden, vivid memory of their living room after they'd let their self-elected 'faghag' try her hand at decorating. Then he snorted in malicious glee. "Let her boyfriend be her guinea pig from now on. Lord knows Stefan deserves it."

As he spoke, he glanced over at Alaric and froze, his mouth going dry at the sight of the other man reclining on the rugs, his shirt riding up over his jeans to expose a delectable strip of skin. He just stared for a moment, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Rick," he called finally, his voice strained. "C'mere. Have to show you something."

Alaric rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet.

"What?" he said with a bored tone that did nothing to cool Damon's intent.

"Look at this." Damon crooked his finger.

Alaric grimaced as he approached. "Damon, it's _pink_. Are you--whoa!"

Grasping Alaric by the lapels, Damon tossed him through the curtains, snorting as he heard a muffled "Ow!" when Alaric hit the wall. Before the other man could recover, Damon had joined him behind the rack, pressing Alaric against the wall with one hand.

"What the fuck?!" Alaric snarled as he struggled against Damon's grip. "Damon, what are--oh, _God_."

He whimpered as Damon palmed his bulge through his jeans, pressing against it as his breath started to quicken.

"Jesus. Fuck. Damon..."

Damon smirked. That Alaric obviously hadn't even _dreamt_ of protesting that they were in public was no surprise to him by now and still had the same thrilling effect on him as the first time he'd discovered his boyfriend's little fetish.

"What's the magic word?" he asked in a soft singsong. Alaric just growled and tried to force the issue, insistently pushing his burgeoning erection into Damon's hand until Damon moved it just out of reach.

Alaric groaned. "Bastard," he hissed. "Fine, be that way. _Please_."

Damon laughed. "Thattaboy," he breathed. "Never say I don't reward good behavior."

With that, he reached for Alaric's fly, undoing it and then pushing Alaric's jeans down over his hips. Alaric's breath came in gasps as he thrust towards Damon, trying to get the other man to touch his cock again. Damon wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few strokes before dropping to his knees. He snorted as Alaric let out a loud groan of anticipation.

"You might wanna watch that," he said, gazing up at the other man, his chest tightening at the look of sheer abandon on Alaric's face. "Public place, remember? Unless you want us to get caught."

Alaric fisted his hand in Damon's hair.

"Just shut up and suck my dick, man." Alaric pulled Damon's head towards him, and Damon complied, drawing Alaric's prick into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

 _So much for keeping quiet_ , Damon thought, grinning around Alaric's cock as the other man let out a long, _loud_ stream of obscenities. Then Damon moaned as Alaric's fingers twisted in his hair, _hard_ , his own prick hardening almost to the point of pain. As Alaric pushed his erection into Damon's mouth, Damon dug his nails into Alaric's hips, his tongue and lips working Alaric's prick. With every hitch of Alaric's breath, Damon's heart seemed to swell with an as yet unspoken emotion.

Before all too long, Alaric let out a wild cry and started to shoot, his hands holding Damon in place until he was spent. Damon swallowed down the semen and then licked Alaric's cock clean before releasing it reluctantly from his mouth and pushing himself to his feet. With the sudden loss of Damon's support, Alaric's knees buckled and Damon's arms flew out and grabbed Alaric, tugging him into his arms.

"Have I told you recently how much I love that?" Alaric asked breathlessly as he leaned on Damon, burying his face in the crook of Damon's neck.

"You might've mentioned it this morning in the shower," Damon said, kissing a path down Alaric's throat, basking in the delicious scent of Alaric's blood throbbing under his skin. His own cock was still hard, but he was content to wait until Alaric had recovered himself before continuing. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

"Anniversary?" Alaric murmured. His voice, muffled against Damon's shoulder, sounded amused. "That's not for another seven months. And, uh, four days."

"But we've been living together for a month today," Damon said, feeling ridiculously pleased that Alaric was keeping track of 'the other thing,' too, just like he was. "Get with the program, Rick."

"Right. Sorry." A low, soft chuckled rumbled through Alaric's chest, vibrating against Damon. "But you love me anyways."

Damon's breath caught in his throat. As usual, he wasn't sure what was more terrifying, Alaric's words themselves or the certainty in which they'd been said. Before he could give Alaric a flippant reply and ruin the mood, however, the curtains were pulled aside with an abrupt yank and they found themselves face to face with an irate saleswoman.

One compulsion and one order for curtains later, Damon was dragging Alaric off to the dressing rooms of the men's department. It was time to finish what he'd started with the man he lo--well, that was a tale for another day.


End file.
